Adultery Undercover Desires

[Paty@123]

Update plz sir

[Astroboy11]

The story has veered away from being adultery now that she’s divorced. While I think #justiceforrahul is a dead end, the way the story is progressing there might soon be a need for #justicefordanish. lol .

Author, please confirm if you intend to continue writing and expanding the story.

[John446]

CHAPTER – 61


The first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across Kavya’s bedroom, where the remnants of the night still lingered in the air. The power had not returned, but the oppressive darkness had softened, giving way to a quiet morning that felt both serene and heavy with the weight of what had transpired. Kavya sat on the edge of her bed, her silken nightgown still slightly askew, one strap resting loosely on her shoulder, her dark hair cascading in tousled waves. Her fingers traced the spot on her neck where Feroz’s lips had pressed their final, searing peck, the memory of his touch—warm, deliberate, and restrained—sending a faint shiver through her. The scent of her jasmine perfume, now faint but still clinging to her skin, mingled with the musky trace of their shared exertion, a potent reminder of the night she had spent in the arms of her future father-in-law.
Kavya’s mind replayed the hours in vivid detail: the way Feroz’s strong hands had gripped her waist, his fingers splaying across her hips, thumbs brushing the bare skin where her nightgown had ridden up; the rough scbang of his stubble against her neck, her cleavage, igniting goosebumps across her body; the soft, trembling moans that had escaped her lips as she arched into his touch, her fear of the darkness tempered by his steady presence. She remembered the way his chest had pressed against hers, their heartbeats thundering in unison, and the low, gravelly murmur of his voice—“You’re safe, Kavya”—as his lips grazed her throat. The intimacy had been overwhelming, a fire that had burned between them, yet Feroz had held back, never crossing the line despite the charged opportunity the darkness had provided. That restraint, that quiet strength, left her with a complex mix of gratitude, guilt, and a lingering awareness of the forbidden closeness they had shared.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts, a pang of guilt tightening her chest. Danish, her fiancé, had returned, his cheerful voice echoing from downstairs as he greeted Feroz. Today was their wedding day, a day meant to mark the beginning of their life together, rooted in love and commitment. Yet the memory of Feroz’s touch, the heat of his body, the way her own had responded, clung to her like a shadow. She rose, her bare feet touching the cool floor, and moved to the mirror, her reflection revealing a woman caught between the intensity of the night and the promise of the day ahead. She adjusted her nightgown, pulling the strap back into place, and took a deep breath, steeling herself to focus on Danish, on the vows she would soon speak, on the life they would build. But the night with Feroz, the way it had blurred the boundaries of their relationship, remained a quiet secret in her heart, tinged with both relief at his restraint and a disquieting awareness of the fire they had kindled.
Downstairs, in the quiet of his own room, Feroz sat on the edge of his bed, his broad shoulders hunched, his hands clasped tightly together. The creak of the front gate and Danish’s return had jolted him from the haze of the night, forcing him to confront the reality of what had happened. He couldn’t believe it had come to pass—that he had spent the entire night with Kavya, his son’s fiancée, their bodies pressed so close, her warmth flooding his senses. His mind replayed every moment with searing clarity: the softness of her curves under his hands, the way her body had molded to his, yielding yet trembling; the intoxicating aroma of her jasmine perfume, laced with the musky scent of her sweat, filling the air as he held her; the smooth, delicate skin of her neck, her cleavage, where his nose had grazed, his stubble scbanging lightly, drawing soft gasps from her lips. He remembered the way her breasts had pressed against his chest through the thin fabric of her nightgown, the rapid thud of her heartbeat echoing his own, and the way her fingers had dug into his hair, her nails leaving faint crescent marks on his scalp.
The memory of her cleavage, the tender swell of her breast under his touch, the way it had smelled—warm, fragrant, alive—sent a pulse of heat through him, followed swiftly by a wave of guilt. She was half his age, promised to his son, and yet the night had felt like a fire he couldn’t resist. He had held her through her deepest fear, his presence a shield against the darkness, but the intimacy of their closeness had pushed them to the edge of a line he had refused to cross. That restraint was his anchor now, a tether to his sense of honor, but it did little to quiet the longing that stirred in his chest. The years of solitude since his wife’s death, the quiet strength he had built in her absence, had been tested by Kavya’s warmth, her vulnerability, her undeniable allure. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, and pushed the thoughts aside, the weight of guilt settling over him. Today was Danish’s day, Kavya’s day, and he would honor that, no matter the cost to his own heart.
As the morning unfolded, both Kavya and Feroz buried their thoughts, focusing on the preparations for the wedding. The house began to hum with activity, relatives arriving, the scent of jasmine garlands and rosewater filling the air as the intimate ceremony took shape. Kavya bathed, letting the warm water wash away the lingering traces of the night, though the memory of Feroz’s touch remained vivid. She dressed in a resplendent red lehenga, its intricate gold embroidery catching the light, her hands adorned with henna in delicate patterns that spoke of celebration and love. The weight of the jewelry—gold bangles, a heavy necklace, dangling earrings—grounded her, a reminder of the role she was stepping into. Her hair was swept into an elegant bun, adorned with fresh flowers, and her makeup enhanced her natural beauty, her eyes bright with a mix of anticipation and the quiet shadow of the night before.
Downstairs, Feroz dressed in a traditional sherwani, its deep navy fabric tailored to his broad frame, his presence commanding yet subdued. He caught glimpses of Kavya as she moved through the house, her lehenga shimmering, her laughter soft as she greeted relatives. Each glance brought a flicker of the night—her body pressed against his, the heat of her breath, the scent of her skin—but he forced his focus to the present, to his son, to the joy of the day. Danish, radiant in his own sherwani, was the picture of a groom, his eyes alight with love as he prepared to marry the woman he adored. Feroz clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder, offering a warm smile, though his heart carried the weight of the secret he and Kavya shared.
The wedding took place in the garden, transformed into a vision of elegance with dbangd fabrics, twinkling lights, and a mandap adorned with marigolds and roses. The ceremony followed '. traditions, a nikah solemnized with grace and reverence. The maulvi recited verses from the Quran, his voice steady and resonant, as Kavya and Danish sat side by side, their hands clasped under the canopy. Kavya’s heart raced as she spoke her acceptance, “Qubool hai,” her voice clear despite the emotions swirling within her. Danish’s voice echoed hers, his love evident in every word, and the witnesses—close family and friends—nodded in approval, sealing the union.
Feroz stood among the guests, his eyes fixed on the couple, a quiet pride mingling with the guilt that still gnawed at him. He watched Kavya, her face glowing under the veil, her smile radiant as she looked at Danish. The memory of her in his arms, her softness, her scent, flickered unbidden, but he pushed it down, focusing on the joy of the moment. The nikah concluded with blessings and the signing of the nikah-nama, the contract that bound them in marriage. The air filled with the scent of attar and the sound of congratulations, relatives showering the couple with rose petals and well-wishes.
As the day progressed, the celebration continued with a modest feast, laughter, and music, the intimacy of the gathering reflecting the couple’s desire for a heartfelt union. Kavya moved through the crowd, her lehenga trailing gracefully, her eyes occasionally meeting Feroz’s across the garden. Each glance was fleeting, charged with the unspoken memory of the night, but they both looked away, anchoring themselves in the present. Kavya laughed with Danish, her hand resting in his, her heart settling into the love they shared, though the shadow of the night remained, a quiet complexity she would carry forward.
Feroz, too, found solace in the joy of the day, his pride in his son and Kavya’s union outweighing the turmoil of his thoughts. He joined the celebrations, his deep voice mingling with the chatter, his presence a steady anchor for the family. But as he watched Kavya and Danish dance under the twinkling lights, their happiness undeniable, he felt a quiet resolve to let the night remain a secret, a moment of vulnerability and restraint that had tested but not broken the boundaries of their roles.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and purple as the wedding festivities drew to a close. The garden, still adorned with twinkling lights and wilting marigold garlands, buzzed with the lingering warmth of celebration. Laughter and chatter from the remaining guests filled the air, but a quiet stillness settled over the house as the crowd began to disperse. Kavya, now officially Danish’s wife, felt the weight of her new role, her red lehenga shimmering faintly in the evening light, the intricate gold embroidery catching the glow of the lanterns. Her hands, adorned with henna, fidgeted with the heavy gold bangles on her wrists, the clinking a soft reminder of the vows she had spoken hours earlier. Danish was inside, caught up in a lively conversation with cousins, his laughter echoing through the open door, leaving Kavya to steal a moment alone.
As she made her way toward the house, intending to retreat to her room to change and catch her breath, her eyes caught a solitary figure in the garden. Feroz stood near the edge of the lawn, his navy sherwani slightly rumpled, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the fading light. He was gazing at the horizon, his hands clasped behind his back, the weight of the day evident in the slight slump of his posture. The sight of him stirred something in Kavya—a mix of gratitude, guilt, and the vivid memory of the night before, when their bodies had been pressed close, his hands tracing her curves, his lips grazing her neck. The intensity of that memory, the forbidden heat of their closeness, flooded her senses, and before she could second-guess herself, her feet carried her toward him.
“Feroz,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the evening air. He turned, his dark eyes meeting hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The garden lights cast a warm glow across his face, highlighting the lines etched by years of resilience and loss, his expression a mix of warmth and guarded restraint. Kavya approached, her lehenga rustling softly, her heart pounding with the weight of what she needed to say. The scent of jasmine garlands mingled with the faint trace of her perfume, a haunting echo of the night they’d shared.
“Kavya,” Feroz said, his voice low and steady, though there was a flicker of something deeper—guilt, perhaps, or the same unspoken tension that tugged at her. “Shouldn’t you be inside with Danish?” His tone was gentle, but the question carried a subtle weight, a reminder of the roles they now occupied.
She hesitated, her fingers twisting the edge of her dupatta, her eyes searching his. “I needed a moment,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “And… I needed to talk to you. About last night.” The words hung between them, heavy with meaning, the air thickening with the shared memory of their closeness, the heat of their embrace, the way their boundaries had blurred in the darkness.
Feroz’s jaw tightened, his hands unclasping and falling to his sides. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them, though he kept a careful space, as if aware of the line they had nearly crossed. “Kavya,” he began, his voice rougher now, tinged with a quiet intensity. “I’ve been thinking about it too. All day. I… I never meant for it to happen like that. You were scared, and I wanted to be there for you. But it… it went further than it should have. It was the flow of the moment, the darkness, your fear. I got caught up in it, and I’m sorry.”
Kavya’s breath caught, her chest tightening as his words echoed her own thoughts. She stepped closer, the hem of her lehenga brushing the grass, her eyes never leaving his. “No, Feroz, don’t apologize,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, the weight of her own guilt spilling over. “I was terrified, and you… you made me feel safe. You didn’t cross the line, even when it would’ve been so easy to. And…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, her cheeks flushing as she admitted, “I might not have stopped you if you had. I can’t stop thinking about it—how close we were, how it felt. Your hands, your voice, the way you held me… it was more than just comfort. And I let it happen, too. I didn’t stop it. I’m as guilty as you are.”
The confession hung between them, raw and unguarded, the garden lights casting soft shadows across their faces. Feroz’s gaze softened, but the guilt in his eyes deepened, a mirror to her own. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration and restraint, his voice low and measured. “Kavya, you’re my son’s wife now. Last night… it was a moment, a mistake born out of circumstance. I felt you in my arms, the way you clung to me, your softness, your scent.” His voice faltered, the memory of her jasmine perfume, the musky warmth of her skin, flooding his senses. “Your… your closeness, the way your body felt, it was overwhelming. I won’t lie—it stirred something in me, something I haven’t felt in years. But it was wrong. I’m your father-in-law, and I should’ve been stronger, kept it from going that far.”
Kavya’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, not of sadness but of the complex emotions swirling within her—guilt, gratitude, and the lingering pull of their shared intimacy. “Feroz, you were strong,” she said, her voice firm despite the tremor. “You didn’t cross that line, even when I… I might have let it happen. You held me through my worst fear, and you kept me safe. Yes, it went further than it should have, but it was both of us. The darkness, the fear, it… it pulled us in. I felt your strength, your warmth, and I leaned into it. I’m not blameless.” She paused, her fingers brushing the spot on her neck where his lips had lingered, the memory sending a faint shiver through her. “But today, I married Danish. I love him, and I’m ready to build a life with him. Last night… it can’t happen again. It was a moment, and we need to let it go.”
Feroz nodded, his expression heavy with understanding, though the weight of the night still clung to him. “You’re right,” he said, his voice quieter now, a mix of resolve and regret. “It was a moment, Kavya. A moment that got away from us. I love my son, and I want nothing but happiness for you both. What happened last night—it stays there, in the dark. We don’t speak of it again.” His eyes held hers, a silent pact forming between them, the shared guilt and gratitude binding them in a way that was both painful and profound.
Kavya took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly, the weight of their conversation easing the tension in her chest. “Thank you, Feroz,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “For last night, for being there… and for this. For understanding.” She offered a small, tentative smile, her eyes reflecting the garden lights, a mix of relief and resolve.
Feroz returned the smile, though it was tinged with sadness, the memory of her warmth, her scent, still vivid in his mind. “Go to Danish,” he said gently, his voice a low rumble. “He’s waiting for you. This is your day, your life with him. Be happy, Kavya.” He stepped back, creating a physical distance that mirrored the emotional boundary they were reestablishing, his hands once again clasped behind his back.
Kavya nodded, her heart lighter but still carrying the shadow of their shared night. She turned, her lehenga sweeping the grass, and walked back toward the house, the sound of Danish’s laughter drawing her forward. As she reached the door, she glanced back once, seeing Feroz still standing in the garden, his figure solitary but resolute. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, a silent acknowledgment of the secret they would both bury, and then she stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping her.
Inside, Danish greeted her with a wide smile, pulling her into a gentle embrace, his hands warm and familiar. “There you are,” he said, his voice filled with love, oblivious to the weight of the conversation she’d just had. “Ready to start our life together?” Kavya smiled, her heart settling into the love she felt for him, the guilt and complexity of the night with Feroz fading into the background, though never fully erased.
Back in the garden, Feroz remained, the cool evening air brushing against his skin, the memory of Kavya’s softness, her scent, her trembling breath lingering like a ghost. He took a deep breath, letting the guilt settle, and turned his gaze to the stars emerging in the night sky. The night before had been a fire, a moment of weakness and strength intertwined, but it was over. He would carry it silently, a burden and a memory, as he watched his son and Kavya build their future, vowing to honor the boundaries that defined their family.

[Rakul1985]

Oops, very slow drama and small updates.

[Astroboy11]

Looking forward to the next update. Time to see if the story still retains its oomph now that these two sluts are joined in matrimony.

[Paul5]

I think the end of story no more please end of story thanks for wonderful writing ???

[Paty@123]

Story has been stgnated I feel and story is fully with emotions, little faster updates will carry the storyline

[momass]

dont bend the story to satisfy few users

the story is based on emotions but you seems you trying to make kavya a slut who will seduced by feroz and the fucked ,the what ,you will found neighbour who will be more dominant that feroz ,the he will also seduce kavya and then fuck her ??

whats the point bro

your story is focused on emotions ,keep it that way

and slower update is also killing interest

and the way you wrote this story till date ,i still feel bad for rahul ,i hope you will do justice to rahul

#justice_for_rahul

[momass]

The story has veered away from being adultery now that she’s divorced. While I think #justiceforrahul is a dead end, the way the story is progressing there might soon be a need for #justicefordanish. lol .

Author, please confirm if you intend to continue writing and expanding the story.

#justice_for_rahul will end when story ends

a best friend and his wife betrayed a innocent man who was working hard for his family 

a innocent man becomes super dangerous when he leaves his innocent nature 

rahul will not leave them just like that , he will soon seeks revenge and make them pay the price what they deserve 

stay strong rahul

[momass]

You cuck 

The story mainly goes around emotion and the feelings, since the title itself is Undercover Desire. You will hardly see unrealistic things in this story...

but now writer looks like going this way ,forgetting that story is focused on emotions

[masti.bhai]

Boss, the more wicked, the more taboos broken, the merrier.
Don't worry about your distractors.
If Kavya spends her life with Danish, I can as well read Chandamama stories. Make her seduce Feroze. Bring a sadistic character as well.
Increase the Masala. ?
You're doing a great job.
Cheers

[Pattaasu Balu]

Feroz is the man of the house. Kavya always wants to be her man like this. In her house, Danish behaved that way. Here it is Feroz. This is survival of fittest. Let Danish also taste the pain of cheating to know how his friend would have suffered.

[भाभी जी]

Waiting for next update...

[Paty@123]

Rahul ni vadilesaru, there should be a revenge from rahul, kavya should become a willing pros for Danish family. Your early update is appreciated

[Paty@123]

Update plz sir

[Deepak Sanjeev]

This is going excellent

[Paty@123]

Plz update sir

[Astroboy11]

This might not be a bad place to conclude the story. One marriage dissolved, another started. May they respect each other and their boundaries.

[Paty@123]

Update plz sir

[Ayush01111]

This might not be a bad place to conclude the story. One marriage dissolved, another started. May they respect each other and their boundaries.

No we want revenge for rahul